God Pairs Up Angels And Demons
by leximia
Summary: The apocalypse is over and Aziraphale and Crowley can finally express their feelings for each other. Except a certain archangel and duke of hell will stop at nothing to sabotage them. **This has been reuploaded. If there are issues with this story still, you can read it on my AO3 account - Lexitennant2
1. Two Weddings

It looked like a regular piece of paper, though it was made of a creamy white card stock. Flower decals were engraved into the card and in the middle in script font were the words

**Anathema Device and Newton Pulsifer **

**request the pleasure of your attendance to their wedding ceremony **

**on August 24th, at six o'clock in the evening **

**at Jasmine Cottage **

The silver of the script was hard to read in the light coming into the shop from outside, so Aziraphale spent some time trying to read the invitation without the suns glare hiding away the words.

"Dear, how long ago was armageddon?"

Crowley was splayed out on the leather couch that had been stuffed into the overcrowded office. He was enjoying the sunlight that was coming in through the window, soaking up its warmth like the snake that he was. With his arm over his face, his answer to Aziraphale was muffled.

"What was that dear?" Aziraphale asked from his desk chair, making a little 'aha' sound when he found enough shade to read the invitation fully.

Crowley grumbled and removed his arm. "I said, it was about five days ago. Why?"

"Well, Miss Device and that witch hunter have invited us to their wedding."

Crowley blinked quickly in shock.

"Shadwell?!"

"Oh Heavens no, the younger one with glasses that Miss Device said was her boyfriend."

Crowley blinked in shock again.

"Didn't those two just meet?"

"Well yes, young love and what not." Aziraphale said a bit uncomfortable.

There was a heaviness in the air between them, something that had been growing thicker ever since the apocalypse that wasn't. There were words that both sides wanted to say to each other, but old habits and fear kept them from ever vocalizing it. Both were fully aware that they had 6,000 years of pent up emotions and repressed feelings, and Anathema and Newton were already sending out wedding invitations after less than a week of knowing each other. There was an irony it that somewhere that neither demon nor angel wanted to acknowledge.

"Well, I suppose it's different for humans." Crowley drawled, suddenly not as relaxed as he had been. It didn't help that clouds were now covering up the sun, so the shop was illuminated now only by the dull florescent lights hanging from the ceiling.

Crowley sat up from the couch, stretched his arms out in front of him so he could crack his back, and slid on over towards Aziraphale. He didn't pay attention to the personal space boundaries he was ignoring and he all but molded himself to Aziraphale's upper half so he could read over the angel's shoulder.

"August 24th, that's six days from now right?" Crowley's breath brushed over Aziraphale's ear and the angel forced himself to sound normal as he replied, "That's right."

Aziraphale prided himself on not sounding as breathless as he felt as the demon pushed himself a bit closer and plucked the invitation out of Aziraphale's hand. The demon straightened away from Aziraphale, and brought the invitation up close to his face as he read over where and when the event would take place. Aziraphale tried not to miss the lack of contact.

"I suppose it'd be rude to turn them down." Crowley mused.

"Oh most certainly, and we haven't been to a wedding in...I'm not even sure how long."

"Sometime before King Henry VIII."

"Really? That long?"

"Henry kind of put us off the wedding idea." Crowley muttered, both giving a shudder at the thought.

"Well I'm sure nothing of the sort will happen this time." Aziraphale stated, preparing to get out of his desk chair so he could start browsing through one of his books for a suitable wedding gift, but then the fact hit him that there was hardly any chance of such a book being in the shop, and if it were, it would be rather outdated. He would have to order a wedding catalog most surely.

Crowley huffed out a laugh before dipping back down and leaning over Aziraphale to put the invitation onto the desk. At the same time that he was pulling back to stand up straight again, Aziraphale started to get up and they suddenly became aware of how close they were as they stared at each other, faces millimeters apart.

Crowley was just now remembering that he'd taken his glasses off so he could laze on the sofa, and they were now nestled in between some thick volumes on the coffee table.

"I'll come by tomorrow then? I'm sure you'll want to go all out for the wedding." Crowley tried to sound as if he was just humoring Aziraphale, but it came out utterly soft instead.

"Four would be a lovely time to come over." Aziraphale said absentmindedly, his focus more on Crowley's eyes.

Crowley rarely removed his sunglasses, even when it was just the two of them. Aziraphale knew that Crowley didn't much like his eyes, but Aziraphale found himself infatuated with them. How the golden yellow had flecks of bright yellow strewn in, how his slitted pupils would dilate when he was particularly excited or, though the demon would never admit it, when he let his guard down and Aziraphale could feel a _tiny_ amount of love slipping through.

"Right. Great. Good." Crowley licked his lips and flicked his eyes down to Aziraphale's lips and then back up again almost unnoticed.

Aziraphale felt his cheeks becoming warm. He had most certainly _not_ missed the way the demon's eyes had just moved. The snakes pupils were becoming larger and Aziraphale could feel that _tiny bit of love_ pushing through again, and he found himself leaning in, when suddenly Crowley was clearing his throat and was halfway across the room.

Aziraphale almost fell out of the chair, his brain sputtering at how fast the demon had moved, he was certain the other hadn't miracled himself away, rather Aziraphale had been so zoned in that he'd lost himself in the thoughts of Crowley's eyes.

Crowley was placing his sunglasses back on and waving cheerfully over his shoulder as he left the shop, acting as if whatever had just happened hadn't happened.

"What", _spritz_, "the", _spritz_,"bloody hell was that!?" Crowley snapped, spritzing the gigantic plant in front of him.

Said plant had been listening to the demon asking that question for a couple of minutes, and could only offer as close to a shrug as a plant could give.

"I mean come on. Who in their right mind sets a date to be married that quickly? I get it you know, end of the world, emotions running high. But that's all over with and now I'm stuck going to a bloody wedding in six days with Aziraphale...oh crap I over did it." Crowley stopped spritzing the over watered plant, and moved on to the one next to it. The new plant braced itself for the furious misting its owner had given the other plant, but when no water came it dropped slightly, curious as all the other plants were as to why their owner was frozen on the spot.

"You don't think?" He sounded horrified. "Oh no, no, no, no."

Crowley was having something close to a panic attack. This was something that he - being an occult being - shouldn't be having. Maybe he really had _gone_ native.

"I mean that angel can be _really_ stupid at times when it comes to the most obvious stuff, but surely he won't be oblivious to how I feel about him when we're at a damn wedding!" Crowley was backing to spritzing the plants and did so in a circle, whirling around with pent up energy.

The plants were very confused by this development of their owner becoming a human sprinkler, rather that the careful sprayer they knew him to be.

"You there!" He shouted, pointing to an Orchid that seemed to be the smallest in the room of the other plants. The Orchid trembled as the demon advanced, cursing itself internally for not being larger. It was going to be tossed into the mouth of the horrible beast that Crowley threw the other plants into wasn't it?

"What the hell am I supposed to do. How am I supposed to go to this _blasted_ wedding where all this _love_ is going to be flying around and not blurt out to Aziraphale, 'Hey, don't you think its funny that I've been in love with you for 6,000 years and you hardly even acknowledged me as a friend til very recently, and these humans are getting married eleven days after the almost apocalypse?" Crowley's voice inched higher and higher with every word, causing several dogs in the vicinity to perk their ears up in excitement, wondering where the high pitch was coming from.

If one dog, startled by the high pitch, jolted hard enough on his leash to cause his female owner to fall into the pond at Park, well then he could count it towards his demonic miracle of the day. He had been seriously slacking since the end of the world.

The plant, even if it could speak, did not have anything to say to this hypothetical situation that it had been offered.

Crowley came to this realization and sank to the floor, wishing he could just become a snake again and curl up and hide away.

"Oh this is a _fucking_ disaster." He moaned, tossing aside the spray bottle from his hand, and curled in on himself, not caring that he was showing weakness to his plants.

"This is _your_ work isn't it?!" He shouted, quite sudden, alarming the plants.

He whipped off his sunglasses and glared at the ceiling.

"_You_ think this is rather hilarious right? Me the lowly demon in love with the most oblivious angel in the universe, and now we're supposed to go to a wedding of two humans who have gotten their shit together. It's a slap to the face it is." His face contorted as if the person he was speaking to had stated something along the lines of "_well you had all this time to tell him how you feel_."

Crowley curled up tighter.

"Well he told me, 'Y_ou go too fast for me Crowley_." He pouted.

"What am I supposed to do with that, I mean, how much slower can I go? We don't even hug for Sat-Go-Someone's sake. I offer to just take him wherever he wants to go but nooo that's way to much!"

Crowley layed on the cool marble flooring of the plant room for hours, dreading tomorrow, but also wishing it would come sooner.

A brave plant, Octavia -one of the few that he'd given a name to in the beginning; she'd been around since the 70's because Crowley was a demon and his plants would never die if he had any say in it; all plants that he had "thrown away into the sink disposal" where actually all planted safely in Park- used all her strength and energy to move one of her rather large and long leaves over Crowley's body, in what she hoped was a comforting embrace.

Back in the bookshop, Aziraphale was going through something similar, though he didn't have as much luck of being able to vent to his books, as Crowley did venting to his.

"That was too close, much too close." He muttered to himself, dusting off the long line of books with an extremely soft feather duster he'd miracled because he hadn't been pleased with any of the human made ones he'd found.

Aziraphale might miss things every now and then, much like Crowley and his "_ducks. ducks is what water slides off of_," moment but even he wasn't oblivious to the love Crowley poured out towards him.

He'd all but admitted it oh so many years ago, after giving Crowley the thermos of holy water, that he was aware of these feelings and that he returned them. But nothing could happen, because Heaven and Hell would do to them unspeakable things.

As it was, they had almost been discorporated by Heaven and Hell, and it had been the pure chance of luck - or a really knowledgeable witch- that had given Aziraphale the idea that they should switch bodies.

And in the end here they were, five days later, free from their superiors, _on their own side_, and Aziraphale still couldn't come out to the snake and just tell him that he loved him.

Aziraphale put down the feather duster, pleased with his work, and went into the kitchen to start boiling some water for tea. It was simple things like this, making tea, dusting the books, writing things out, all by hand, that made him feel pleased. He felt closer to the humanity he was trying to protect by following what they did. Crowley would see it as somewhat stupid since they were beings of power and could just miracle up whatever they wanted, but Aziraphale would always point out Crowley's plants, and how he washed the Bentley, and that shut the demon up.

And that was the thing wasn't it? That they both knew each other so well, that Crowley knew what restaurants the angel really loved, and Aziraphale knew what Queen song to get the Bentley to play when his friend was in a mood. They knew so much about each other, but also very little.

In the last five days, they'd been meeting up more than they'd ever done before, and Aziraphale had been introduced to a side of Crowley he'd never seen before, a side that he was falling even more in love with. This side of Crowley was still the old Crowley, but now he stood closer, smiled more often, and the love that was usually only spotted when his glasses were off and for a very short amount of time, was spilling over and wrapping around Aziraphale like a warm sweater.

Aziraphale had rejected Crowley numerous times though, at first because it was unbelievable for them to ever get together, then it was wrong place wrong time, then it was _you go to fast for me Crowley_, and _we're over_, and finally, _I forgive you_.

Aziraphale worried that Crowley wouldn't try anymore, and it would be mostly the angels fault for this. So the wedding was a perfect time for him to finally, pardon the crass phrase, gain some balls and tell the demon how he felt.

But a part of him still wasn't ready, a part of him still wondered if God herself would come down and discorporate them personally if they so much as even kissed. And that was the part of him that felt a small relief when Crowley had pulled away from him earlier in the bookshop, while the other half of him screamed that he should have grabbed the demon by his stupid little grey scarf and kissed him senseless.

Aziraphale frowned, the emotions in his heart playing a tug of war with each other, before he decided that the best course of action was to speak to the newly engaged couple.

Since the books wouldn't answer him, and he wasn't one to talk to objects, and he didn't have a plant of his own, some humans would have to do.

Crowley pulled the Bentley up the small gravel road, and parked haphazardly. Only after a quick scolding from Aziraphale, did he reverse the car and park properly, instead of halfway on the grass.

Aziraphale had called to tell him there were a change of plans, and they would be having lunch at Anathema's, four days before the wedding.

From the car, Crowley could sense the nervous energy coming from inside the house. He assumed that planning a wedding in such a short time was an absolute nightmare and that's why he couldn't understand why Anathema had agreed to having them over for lunch.

"Well, here we are." Aziraphale made a show of straightening out his outfit and hair once they'd exited the car, making Crowley roll his eyes. His driving _wasn't_ that bad.

"After you." Crowley mock bowed, letting the angel go through the gate first. The angel huffed and rushed along, letting out a little snicker when the gate caught on Crowley's shoulder and he stumbled back with a small ow.

Crowley glared but Aziraphale just smiled up innocently at him, and continued up the small path to the house. The angel didn't pause, climbing up onto the porch and then knocking on the door, but Crowley stopped right outside the house, eyes staring intently at the horseshoe.

The horseshoe seemed to have melted into the wood, causing the paint around it to crack and look scorched. He bit the inside of his cheek as he regarded it with distaste.

"Hello, I'm glad you're here, please come in." The door was opened and Anathema was greeting them in a rush, waving her hand out to usher them in. She was very cheery but looked a little strained. Aziraphale started to step forward when he realized that the demon was still standing outside the porch.

Anathema put a hand on her hip and looked up as to where Crowley was looking.

"Dog was also very hesitant." She said, having not really noticed the horseshoe until Adam and Dog had left the first time and she'd smelt burnt metal and looked up.

"Well, Dog is a hell hound. This is meant to _burn_ away the evil." Crowley crinkled his nose, eyeing the horseshoe wearily.

"I'm sure its..fine?" Aziraphale asked Anathema nervously, suddenly aware he might have almost made the demon hurt himself.

"Oh it's fine, Dog was able to come in and he's fine." Anathema said sweetly, motioning for Crowley to come forward.

He did so with reluctance, but when he didn't burst into flames, and his feet didn't burn like they had in the church, he breathed out a small sigh of relief.

"Right then, It's all good." He said more so to himself than the others, and brushed past Aziraphale and Anathema into the cottage.

Aziraphale and Anathema exchanged a look before following him inside.

The place was cluttered more so than before the armageddon. Magazines were strewn everywhere, as were jackets and a lone sock. Decorative ribbons and fake flowers were cluttering the counter space, as were small little glass bowls that had purple sea glass inside and black twine around the perimeter. Most likely they were the decorative centerpieces and the fake flowers would go inside them.

"Sorry about the mess, it's all hectic and what not. Newt won't be joining us for lunch sadly, he's off with his mom getting a tux." Anathema smiled brightly and used her elbows to make some space on the kitchen table for their lunch.

"Now, how have you two been?"

Aziraphale began to respond when Anathema cut him off and did something that rendered the two older beings speechless.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't even greet you guys properly, I'm all over the place today."

And she hugged them.

She started with Aziraphale. She was slightly shorter than him, so her pointed chin rested easily on his shoulder, and her slender arms slid under his arms and looped around him in a tight embrace. The hug was quick and she gave a quick kiss on the cheek as she pulled away. She then advanced on Crowley - advanced being how Crowley saw it but she just merely walked over to him - and pulled him into her arms. Again the hug was quick, as was the kiss on the cheek, but this time she had to stand on tip toes to kiss him.

"I'll go get our lunches while you two sit down and tell me about your day." Anathema gestured for them to sit and they did so, both slightly bewildered.

Crowley was looking rather flushed.

"Well," Aziraphale cleared his throat, getting his bearings together, "I spent most of this week cleaning and rearranging the bookshop. You wouldn't know this but it was burnt down, and Adam was kind enough to bring it back but..oh there's only so much the boy can do and now I have new books popping up everywhere."

The bookshop was still a bit of a sore subject with Aziraphale, sort of like the paintball incident, but on a larger scale. The bookshop may very well be back to almost normal, but _he would always know it had burnt down_. Just like Crowley sometimes shifted uncomfortably in the brand new but not new car. No longer burning after the debacle on the M25.

"There's a whole bunch of _Goosebumps_ books now."

"They're not that bad." Crowley defended.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. "You don't read."

"I do...sometimes." Crowley pouted, catching Anathema's eye, and in a moment of truth he blurted out, "I say I don't like to read, but really it's my eyes. They're not meant for reading."

Anathema tilted her head in confusion at this information, and set down their plates filled with ham and cheese sandwiches, chips - the American kind - pickles, coleslaw, and sliced apples.

Aziraphale was looking at him in wonder, and was reminded again of how much they knew each other, but not enough, even if they had been together for 6,000 years.

"I never asked before, but at the airbase, your eyes were a bit different. I couldn't really tell, but that's why you can't read then is it?"

"Yes." Crowley said bluntly, his scratching of his snake tattoo the only sign of his unease. He then took off his glasses, folding them carefully into his pants pocket, and waited for her to scream.

Anathema, who had manners, and was a professional descendent of a witch, hid her surprise, and instead reached into the fridge to grab them all bottles of water.

"Snake eyes, it's understandable why you can't read very well." She said conversationally. "Have you tried reading with the sunglasses?"

Crowley shook his head. "They're too tinted."

"I might have a pair of reading glasses around here if you'd like to try that?" Anathema offered, taking a large bite of her sandwich.

Crowley, who was a demon, and had very few instances in where people were kind to him, allowed himself to say a quick "thank you."

Aziraphale kept quiet during this interaction, a small feeling of warmth spread throughout him though, to see Anathema so unfazed by a part of the demon that others were naturally revoluted by.

He was rather glad, that out of all the witches in the world - which there were many - they had Anathema at their side.

"So really, the question comes down to either purple or green."

"Well, you already have purple in those glass bowls."

"_Yes_, but that's beside the point." Anathema shoved another magazine under Crowley's nose, this one with a different bridesmaid dress. The model was looking as if someone have just vomited on her and he pushed the magazine away.

"Well I think the green would bring out your eyes dear." Aziraphale said pleasantly from the other side of Crowley.

After lunch, and quick updates on each others lives, they had retired to the small living room. There was only a faded, paisley couch to sit on, so all three crammed onto it, with Crowley in the middle and the witch and angel on either side of him.

Anathema had begun showing them her magazines, and Aziraphale had innocently began questioning her about any previous weddings she'd gone to, still fishing for what he should bring as a gift, and Anathema had said something about a registry but Crowley hadn't really been listening. He was stuck in his own head, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed.

"Do you really think so?" Anathema asked eagerly. Her voice to Crowley sounded miles away.

"Brown and green go quite well together my dear. Who was it you said was your maid of honor?" Aziraphale's voice also had the miles away quality to it.

Crowley didn't have much room to spread out, what with two others sandwiching him in, but he did the best that he could and he let himself drift off a bit into his thoughts.

On the one hand, he could get his shit together like Anathema and Newt were, and just marry Aziraphale. But the problem with that was they'd never properly dated, or even held hands. Sure that was a more conventional human way and they were ethereal and occult beings, but the premise was rather nice. There was a sudden flash of Aziraphale in a wedding dress and Crowley tried to beat that image out of his head.

He'd be the only one in a wedding dress thank you very much. He after all, was the one of the two that could pull off the nanny look.

The whole marriage concept was a formality to him, but it also intrigued him. You were supposed to be giving yourself over to the other person in marriage, and well...they had already swapped bodies. Did that make them married already? He guessed from a humans perspective they probably already were. But it was complicated times a billion when it came to Aziraphale. Crowley wasn't sure the angel even loved him. Oh sure he'd said some things, and there'd been some actions, but there had never been anything concrete.

_You go too fast for me Crowley. _

Those words were going to haunt him til the end of the universe weren't they?

At that time Crowley could have sworn that the angel loved him back. That he'd purposefully been acting oblivious for the years afterwards hurt Crowley. They were on their own side now for everything's sake.

He felt himself shaking and he came back to reality, a worried Aziraphale shaking his shoulder.

" 'M what?" He snapped.

He was aware of where he was and stood briskly, muttering something about checking out Anathema's garden for he needed some fresh air.

Aziraphale and Anathema watched him go.

"See, this is what I mean." Aziraphale sounded pained, after they had heard the cottage door slam shut.

"It's like, I know what he's thinking about, because I can feel these rushes of love coming towards me, and then he just shuts it all down."

Anathema took her glasses off in an almost Crowley like fashion, and stared down into them as she took in the angel's words.

"From what you said on the phone," she put her glasses back on and fixed him with a pointed stare, "you two have been playing this back and forth game for centuries."

Aziraphale nodded, deciding not to comment on how she phrased it.

"And every time he opened up to you, you rejected him."

Aziraphale opened his mouth to contradict her but she barreled on.

"The holy water doesn't count. You weren't clear with him, and when it comes to these things sometimes you have to use the most layman of terms to make people understand how you feel. Just because you thought by telling him that he was going to fast, he'd understand that then wasn't the right time and maybe later it would all work out. He might have not understood any of that at all, or thought you were telling him there was no chance in Hell-"

Aziraphale opened his mouth again but Anathema was on a roll.

"-or Heaven, whatever, the fact is you then decided to reject him _twice_ more after that. I hate to say this but if it'd been anyone else but Crowley, they'd have given up on you."

Aziraphale gave a pitiful noise.

Anathema realized the harshness of her words, and grasped his hand in hers gently.

"You both have taken so much time already, and while I'm sure he could very well tell you he loves you back first - yes he does I can sense it from the moment he's in the room with you and how he looks at you, and you said so yourself that he's filled with love for you - I get the feeling he doesn't like to make himself anymore vulnerable than he has to. He's hiding in my garden right now, there's the proof."

Aziraphale nodded, squeezing the witch's hand in a thank you.

"Now, we're going to continue discussing my wedding and wait for Crowley to return inside. Maybe I can even convince you two to help me with the decor and wedding favors. But for now, think on what I have said, and just _talk to him_ when the moment is right."

Anathema removed her hand from his and shoved a magazine into its place, and then peered at him over her glasses.

"And by the right moment, I do mean by my wedding or I'll do it for you."

Aziraphale fixed his bow-tie again, even though there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. He'd took one look at the suit Anathema had shown him and politely, but quickly, told her no. He was quite happy with his current fashion choices, no matter how much Crowley teased him about it.

He tugged the waistcoat down a little bit where it had ridden up and sighed heavily as he looked at himself in the full body mirror. He was wearing what he normally wore, but had changed the color scheme for it was a special occasion. His suit was a creamier white, and his pants and waistcoat were a darker brown. He'd settled on a robin egg blue tartan bow-tie that he thought brought out his eyes.

He sighed again as he pressed his hand down against his stomach, frowning at how there was the slightest curve that stuck out, causing the waist coat to ride up a bit again. He'd need to have a word with his tailor, his usual waistcoat did not ride up, or show off as much...belly as this one did.

He was by no means fat, but he was closer to what the kids these days called a 'dad bod' then the average male body.

He tutted, scolding himself for worrying about his corporeal body. Crowley very obviously loved him, _all _of him, and there was no need for him to feel so human about how he had let himself go over the millennia's. Gabriel's comment from last week was making its way back and Aziraphale gave himself a shake.

There was a clatter from downstairs, announcing the arrival of his demon companion, and he sucked in a breath of anticipation. He grabbed a fancy yellow bag that contained his gift to Anathema and Newt and made his way out of his bedroom and downstairs.

The last few days the tension between he and Crowley had grown. His talk with Anathema had assured that. They still continued as they had been for the other days, going to new places for food, walking in the park, retiring with wine in the bookshop. Though now they had skype calls with Anathema in between to check up on her, Newt, and Adam. Crowley was still smiling more, being _kinder_, though he would still trip people, and he did love gluing a coin to the sidewalk and watch people trying to pick it up. They were little things, minor irritations, and so _Crowley_ that Aziraphale couldn't fault the demon.

And when the demon would get into his personal space, Aziraphale allowed himself to return the favor. He'd caught the pleased small smiles Crowley had whenever that happened and the angel always flushed happily.

"Crowley, what in the world." Aziraphale paused on the stairs, coming face to face with a rather large plant that had very wide and long leaves. Its pot was a gleaming gold, and was tied with a thick red ribbon. The only thing of Crowley that Aziraphale could see were gangly legs that were covered in a tight burgundy fabric, that had black vertical stripes, and black snakeskin shoes.

"Help me angel, this plant is _ridiculously _heavy." Crowley panted out.

Aziraphale rushed over to him and they both carried it over a few feet away from anywhere that it could block the path of someone, and set it down. There was shuffling and cursing, and when Aziraphale finished brushing off some of the dirt that had fallen out of the pot off his shoes, he straightened up and became quite glad that his body didn't need to breathe.

But that didn't stop him for choking on his breath as he took in Crowley.

Crowley had slicked back his hair, but little tufts were rebelling and curling and spiking around his head. He had a tight white button up under a jacket that matched the color and pattern of his pants. The sleeves of the jacket were rolled up showing off his forearms, and what was most _intriguing_ was the red lipstick.

Crowley shifted self-consciously, scratching nervously at his tattoo. "You don't think it's too much do you?"

"Not at all." Aziraphale breathed out, his eyes trying to take in as much of Crowley as they could.

"It's just well," Crowley continued as if he hadn't heard, "I don't normally dress up, there's no real point, but I thought, for the witch I should." He blabbed on pushing his sunglasses up so they nestled into his hair.

Aziraphale's eyes widened. Crowley was wearing eyeliner.

Aziraphale was taking a step forward without even knowing it, the yellow bag falling to the floor.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley questioned, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

The angel had a mission. He didn't think he'd be able to keep his hands off of Crowley for much longer. He stalked, more then walked closer to Crowley. The demon raised his eyebrows high, his golden eyes widening in slight fear and anticipation as he backed up slowly.

"Angel, do I have something on my face? Was the lipstick too much?" Crowley bumped against the edge of the front desk, raising his hand up to wipe off the lipstick, and Aziraphale snapped his hand out to grab onto the others wrist.

"It's _fucking _gorgeous." He all but growled out.

Crowley's eyes were dilating even more, and he didn't even seem aware that he was now sitting slightly on the desk, and that his legs had spread wider to accommodate Aziraphale between them.

"O-oh really." He squeaked out, his arms now limp noodles that were unsure as to where they should put themselves.

"Anathema and I, we talked about you, and while she did threaten me I want you to know that it is of my own accord that I'm telling you this now." Aziraphale was so close that the poor demon was going slightly cross eyed with trying to keep him in his sights.

The angels hands were moving up his arm to his shoulder slowly and the demon gave a shudder under the touch.

"_Angel_, what are-what are you doing?" He whispered, leaning forward into the man before him so they were touching everywhere. Crowley _really_ loved how easy the angel fit in between his legs, and how said angel was blushing like a tomato but had determination in his blue eyes.

The hands on his shoulder tightened and Aziraphale was surging forward, startling the demon as their lips collided.

It was messy at first, with Crowley just barely holding himself upright with his hands on the desk to steady him, what with the momentum Aziraphale had as he came towards him.

Their teeth clacked harshly, and their noses were smushed, but Crowley found himself not giving a damn. The angel was _kissing_ him and that was all that mattered.

Aziraphale pulled away first, resting his forehead against Crowley as he tried to catch his breath, a breath that he didn't need but made him feel more alive to use it.

Crowley licked his lips, savoring the taste left behind.

"Well... well that was. I'm sorry but that was bloody amazing." He wriggled his butt so he could move even closer to Aziraphale, and hooked his legs behind the angels knees. He was grinning like a loon, his pupils blown as wide as they could be, and all from a kiss.

In his defense, he had never done anything, or ever felt this strongly, in his entire life.

_His angel_ \- there was no way he was letting Aziraphale go after this - was blushing prettily and had a dazed look in his eyes. Crowley's grin widened impossibly more as he saw his own lipstick had turned Aziraphale's lips a nice cherry red.

"Glad you liked it." Aziraphale said coming back to himself, his smile shy.

"Can we do it again?" Crowley was eager.

Aziraphale answered by kissing him again, this time slow and sweet. His hands moved, one going around the demons waist to hold him to his chest, the other going into the red hair, knocking off the sunglasses and utterly destroying the slicked back look. Crowley sank into Aziraphale's plusher form and laced his fingers through Aziraphale's curls, giving little tugs that made the angel whimper into his mouth.

They stayed there for a while, just kissing, Crowley opening his mouth for Aziraphale to deepen the kiss. The angel tasted of honey and something so _lovely_ that Crowley couldn't describe it but he knew he would always want more.

Aziraphale's tongue in his mouth was something _new _ and _totally_ welcomed, and Crowley hissed happily as all the sensations overwhelmed him but in a good way.

The angel pulled away again and Crowley whined from the loss, his eyes opening half way as the angel began stroking his hair.

"_I love you Crowley,_ always have and always will. I've been a fool for not being straightforward about it to you, you deserve so much better." The angel said softly, and Crowley all but melted into his touch.

"No." He said, tucking his head under the angel's chin, and rubbing his hands all over Aziraphale's _glorious_ body. "I ssshould have ssaid sssomething first." He was so content that he was hissing but again, he couldn't care less. He was in Heaven, which you can take that for what you will.

"Absolutely not dear, this was my fault. We could have been doing this sooner if I wasn't so afraid of what would happen." Aziraphale moved back just enough so that he could tilt Crowley's head up by the chin and kiss him again.

"I love you too." Crowley said against Aziraphale's soft lips, and the angel squeezed him tighter, kissing more deeply.

"We need to get going." Aziraphale said after a few moments.

"Oh _fuck _the wedding." Crowley grunted, but reluctantly allowed Aziraphale to move away from him, and grab the yellow bag that had fallen to the floor. They spent a moment smoothing down their suits, but it was pointless as they were back in each others arms like love struck teenagers that were forced to be kept away from each other by families who were enemies.

Crowley smirked down at Aziraphale, much liking the height difference.

"Really now." Aziraphale huffed, sensing what the demon was thinking.

"We need to get going right now," Aziraphale leaned upwards to give a peck to Crowley's lips, "if we want to," _kiss_, "get that blasted plant," _kiss_, "to the venue."

Crowley hissed, and then blinked looked down at his lover in confusion.

"The plant?"

"Yes, the giant one you brought in."

"Oh...That's Octavia, she's for you. My present for Anathema and the witch hunter are waiting in the Bentley."

Aziraphale glanced over at the plant, who almost seemed to be giving the air of someone who knew they shouldn't be looking at the intimate moment, but couldn't help it seeing as they were a plant and couldn't leave the room.

"For me?" He asked, feeling all the love in the room was going to make him burst with happiness.

"Yes for you. She has proven her worth countless times, and I'd only give you the best." Crowley said softly, and Aziraphale couldn't help but pull him into another deep kiss.

This time Crowley pulled away and winked. "Come now angel, we're going to be late for the wedding."

He began to walk away, reapplying his lipstick.

Aziraphale huffed at the demons teasing, but hurried after him and interlaced their fingers so they were holding hands .

The sunglasses lay forgotten on the desk where they had fallen to.

The guests were very welcoming to the arrival of Crowley and Aziraphale.

Apparently Anathema talked a lot about them.

Crowley had realized once he'd stepped out of the car that he wasn't wearing his sunglasses - the kissing had left him that dazed - but a quick reassurance from Anathema had made him not grab another pair from the glove box. She rather liked his eyes, and she knew that Aziraphale rather liked them as well, and had already told her family and friends that he just had an eye condition and not to say anything in the hopes that he wouldn't wear his glasses. Luck seemed to be on her side when she'd saw he'd arrived without them.

Crowley was once again pulled into a hug by the young woman, and this time he returned it happily, complimenting her on her dress.

It was quite odd to not see her in a witchy skirt or dress, and rather in a short and rather modern looking white wedding dress, but it suited her quite well. Her hair was curled even more so into an updo, and a lacy veil trailed behind her.

Her friends were telling Aziraphale where to put the gifts, but Crowley reached into his backseat and pulled out a lovely golden blue flower. It looked like a mix between a rose and a honeysuckle, and the golden tones swirled perfectly with the deeper blue. It was one of the few flowers he had left from The Garden.

Crowley handed it to Anathema, and told her quietly that it should go into her bouquet, and that when the wedding was done, to place it in the vase he'd brought and it would bloom forever more.

Anathema took the flower with shaky hands and carefully inserted it amongst the flowers in her bouquet.

Aziraphale came up to them, and Crowley easily slid an arm around his waist. Anathema looked close to tears and drew them both into a long hug.

When she was gone they made their way to their seats.

They were in a grassy field, rather than a church, which was a huge relief to Crowley, and there was a gazebo set up with white mesh curtains and green accents. A blonde that was Anathema's friend from college, and who was the maid of honor, was wearing an emerald green brides maid dress, and was hitting it off with Newton's grooms man.

Crowley and Aziraphale said polite greetings to Sergeant Shadwell, and a rather less flamboyantly dressed Madame Tracey, though she had kept the eyeshadow.

Adam came by with the Them and Dog.

There was a minor scuffle as Dog tried to pee on Aziraphale's shoes, but the kids left with candy in their hands and Adam was given a fond pat on the head from Crowley.

As they sat down near the front, a few seats away from Anathema's mother, Crowley leaned in and whispered into the angels ear.

"When we get married, I think we should do it out here, and only invite a few people, not as many as there are now."

Aziraphale choked on the sour candy he'd put in his mouth and looked over at Crowley in adoration and shock.

"We could even invite our respective superiors. I'm sure Beelzebub and Gabriel would be thrilled to be our bridespersons, or maybe even officiate? I can see it now, Gabriel walking you down the aisle, giving you away to me..."

Two figures stood shoulder to shoulder in the woods surrounding the wedding.

One was a tall, handsome man, wearing a grey pressed suit, and had violet eyes. The other was much shorter, and had a rather large but cute fly upon their head.

They had exceptional hearing so there was no need to wonder what was being said as they stared at Aziraphale and Crowley.

"... giving you away to me, wiping away a tear as good old Beez begins the ceremony."

Crowley's voice was coming in loud and clear to the two watching them.

Beelzebub's flies were mirroring their masters unease, and Gabriel clenched his fist and quite loudly said.

"OH THAT MOTHERFUC-


	2. Gabriel's Plan

There were two figures, shrouded by a cluster of small trees, that gave off an ominous air.

One was quite tall, and quite handsome. His expression was smug as he straightened the lapel of his dark grey suit.

"Well," he nudged his companion, "I think we have enough evidence to get them this time."

His companion - who was much shorter - looked away from the camera they had pointed towards an occupied bench, and glared at the taller man.

"That'zzz what you zzzsaid the lazzt time." The shorter figure buzzed with irritation.

"Now Beelzebub-"

"_Now Gabriel_." They mocked back.

Gabriel crossed his arms and definitely did not pout. Angels, let alone _Archangels_, did not pout.

There was a gentle tugging at the hem of his pants, and he looked down in disgust.

"You couldn't keep her on your head?" He asked, trying to shake the fly off that was trying to possibly '_hump his leg_'.

Beelzebub scoffed, but made a little clicking noise with their tongue. The fly stopped and waddled over to its master, throwing Gabriel a look that made the archangel quite uncomfortable. It wasn't his fault he didn't want a fly the size of a small dog humping his leg. The damn thing had the indecency to look _betrayed_ that Gabriel didn't want her around.

"We are trying to blend in. Humanzzzz would notice if I had Geraldine on my head."

Gabriel looked down at Geraldine, then back at Beelzebub, and wondered how in the world he'd gotten into this mess.

Then he heard a delicate cough, one that was so _familiar_ and so _annoying_, and turned his attention back to their targets.

Said targets were both betrayers of their respective sides.

One an angel, with just a touch of _bad_ in him, and one a demon, with far too much good in him.

They were sitting on a park bench, sitting very close with their fingers interlaced, their heads bent towards each other as they talked about the ducks. The angel was scolding the demon for sinking yet another duck, but there was only fondness in his tone.

"Thatszzz diszzgusting." Beelzebub said, wrinkling their nose in an irritated but very cute way.

Gabriel blinked. He had not just thought that _any_ action of Beelzebub's was _cute._ He reached up, and tried to casually slap the side of his head to knock that thought out of there.

Beelzebub didn't notice, zooming in with their camera as to take another picture of the two lovebirds at the bench.

Gabriel sighed and leaned his weight against the nearest tree branch. There was no need for him to 'rest' but it felt right for his corporeal form to do so. He still wasn't used to this body. He would take it up with upper management, but upper management was God and she wasn't really there anymore to listen to Gabriel complaining that his corporeal form was _making him act human._

He looked at the contraption in Beelzebub's hands with distaste. The last time they'd been here, the cameras had been huge and stood on three legs, now they were handheld and uglier then dog shit, and Gabriel was a man of aesthetics. He wondered why these tiny creatures that took pictures of others had evolved in such a hideous fashion.

And why they didn't work worth a crap when they needed to.

There shouldn't have been another attempt at gaining evidence against the angel and demon, but here they were anyways.

The wedding had been the first plan. After the false-alarm-armageddon, and after making their respective soldiers stand the fuck down, Beelzebub and Gabriel were in each others own personal _hell_. The angels were just as rawly as the demons, though the demons could vent their pent up frustrations out on each other; the angels could not.

They were reaching a boiling point - an angel had gone down to do a simple miracle and had ended up nearly leveling a small city in Ukraine was testament to that - and that's when Gabriel had come up with..._the plan_.

A plan to deal with the two that had ruined the apocalypse. Love for humanity or some bullshit like that; why those two couldn't see that the millennia's long tension between Heaven and Hell needed to be dealt with, with Heaven winning in the outcome of course, baffled Gabriel.

"They're on the move." Beezlebub startled Gabriel from his thoughts, and began to briskly walk after their targets.

Gabriel had no problem keeping up, his longer legs easily overlapping Beelzebub's so now the demon was rushing to keep up with him, and turned his thoughts back to the disaster that had been the wedding.

Just because Aziraphale had _breathed fire_ at them, and reportedly Crowley had _bathed in holy_ water, didn't deter Gabriel from thinking, if they just had more evidence of how much _fraternizing_ they did, they could show the almighty the abomination that was going on under her nose. Because obviously God wouldn't want an angel and a demon to make heart eyes at each other, and be _overly_ familiar with the humans.

So Gabriel had _hit up_ Beelzebub, and both were standing awkwardly to the side of the witch and witchfinder's wedding, eyes trained on Crowley and Aziraphale. Those two were utterly unaware of the demon and archangel watching them - a clever cloaking trick from Gabriel was to thank - but they still managed to make Gabriel want to bash his head into a wall several times.

"..._giving you away to me, wiping away a tear as good old Beez begins the ceremony._"

Gabriel cursed the hearing he'd been given and clenched his fist.

He couldn't tell what Beelzebub was thinking - their face was always a blank slate, their voice emotionless...until recently they hadn't shown any emotion but Gabriel wasn't going to dwell on that - but he assumed they were as unsettled as he was.

The flies flying around were bzzzing in unease, the largest one, placed _properly_, on the demons head, was whining softly like a sad little puppy. Gabriel didn't know how he felt about comparing Geraldine to a puppy.

"Oh that motherfucker." He snarled, wishing he could close his ears to the awful _sweet talk_ that was happening in the front row. Weddings were meant to be beautiful and pure, and here was Gabriel wishing this one would end so he could leave and cry.

Beelzebub was the one with the camera, knowing more about it than he, and was snapping pictures quickly, just as eager to leave the place.

But suddenly, there was a loud whirring noise, and the camera burst into flames. Beelzebub dropped it to the ground quickly, and without even thinking started trying to stamp out the small fire. Geraldine was clinging tightly as its master jumped all over the place in a hurry to squash the fire and smoke coming from the cursed contraption.

Gabriel snapped his head towards the angel and demon, but neither were paying any attention, their gazes focused entirely on the ceremony before them.

There was no way that his cloak had slipped, so he just mourned the loss of the three legged beast - unaware that cameras were not alive, and that the older camera would have taken much longer to take the pictures - and bid the demon farewell so he could sulk in private about his plan not working.

They met up again when they learned that the angel and demon were being very open about their relationship, and were sitting together on the bench at Park that they normally occupied, but this time much closer and touching as much as they could.

The camera hadn't blown up.._yet_. Gabriel scowled at the thought and walked faster, ignoring the small grunts of effort his smaller companion was giving.

Crowley was still in a state of disbelief.

It was only a week after the wedding, but it already felt like an eternity. A _good_ eternity.

Crowley looked down at his hand, which was being held gently by Aziraphale.

"I understand that you and the.._ducks_ have this _vendetta_ against each other but you don't need to keep sinking them." Aziraphale scolded, his voice soft as he half-heartedly wagged a finger at Crowley.

Crowley, in a complete and utter disgusting move, grabbed the finger and brought it to his lips and gave it a small kiss.

Aziraphale flushed a pretty shade of red and let out an _honest to God giggle_.

"Come on now, we have dinner reservations right?" Crowley got up, not letting go of the other man's hand. "Don't want to be late for our dinner date _angel_." He smirked.

"Of course _dear_." Aziraphale smiled and got up as well.

Both began heading towards where the Bentley was parked, in no particular hurry because the dinner reservation was always reserved right when they arrived. As they walked the length of the pond, Crowley turned his head to stick his tongue out at a group of ducks he hadn't managed to sink yet, when a peculiar smell reached his tongue.

He had kept many of his snake like ways besides the eyes, and one of these ways was his tongue could still be used to smell more delicate things that his nose couldn't.

He paused, tongue out in the air, wiggling a little as it tried to figure out where he knew that smell from.

"Crowley, are you alright?" His angel questioned, and Crowley put his tongue back in his mouth.

"You don't smell it?"

Aziraphale looked at him curiously, before taking a dramatic sniff.

"Oh..well that's." He scrunched up his nose as Crowley paused their walk for good and whirled around to look behind him in the direction of the smell.

"That smells like fire. Hell fire."

"You don't think-"

"I smelled it at the wedding, and here it is again. It's no coincidence." Crowley cut off Aziraphale, squeezing his hand tightly.

"Let's get going." He muttered darkly, and with one final sweep of the area - completely missing the awkward two figures who dashed behind a tree - he tugged on his lovers hand and rushed them towards the car.

"I don't like this." He muttered as he started up the car, merging into traffic the way a blind dog would.

Aziraphale clutched at the seats, and let out a nervous noise.

"They wouldn't be after us, not so soon. They promised to leave us alone."

"Angel, I wouldn't trust either of them as far as I - stop gripping the leather like that, it'll crease - could throw them."

Aziraphale unclenched the seat has they made a wide u-turn and began barreling back the way they came from.

"What on Earth are you doing?!"

"Losing the scent." Crowley smirked, driving the car up onto the sidewalk nearly hitting a woman.

"Would you be careful." Admonished Aziraphale.

"She knew the risks-"

"You can not use that excuse when we are on the _sidewalk_." Aziraphale said angrily, his hands moving to clench the seat again against the heated glare Crowley threw at him.

Crowley drove them back onto the street, made a few more crazy turns, before they were on a long stretch of road leading out to the country. Aziraphale had been so terrified he hadn't noticed that Crowley had miracled the M25 to let them through and now they were making their way in the direction of Tadfield.

"I think we lost them." Crowley finally said after a moment of silence. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.

"You think." He said drily.

Crowley rolled his eyes and reached over to pull the angel's hand and kiss his knuckle in apology.

The car continued along the country road at a 100 mph, both unaware that a rather large fly was taking refuge in the fender underside of the Bentley's wheel.

Gabriel grabbed Beelzebub by the upper arm and pulled them both swiftly behind a tree as he saw Crowley's head snapping back, his yellow eyes searching the park.

Gabriel was beyond furious at this point. Those two were probably on to Beelzebub and he, and to top it all off, that meant his _second _plan had failed.

His plans _never _needed a second go around, let alone a _third_, which seemed to be the direction things were headed in.

"Well that went brilliantly." Beelzebub's sarcastic comment made Gabriel bristle all over and he held back a snarl of anger. He smoothed his suit down and peered around the tree to see the other angel and demon picking up the pace.

Beelzebub peered out from under his arm so they could see what was happening too and nudged the archangel harshly.

"Letzzz go before they're gone." They buzzed, speeding off. This time it was Gabriel who was huffing after them. He liked to jog in his spare time, keep his corporeal form in shape, but he didn't really ever sprint, and right now Beelzebub was running like a gazelle and easily outpacing him.

They reached Aziraphale and Crowley just as the demon started the car.

In a moment of anger, and quick thinking, Gabriel picked up Geraldine who had managed to stay on Beelzebub's head, and chucked her at the car.

Geraldine made a high pitched buzzing scream and landed in the little crevice of the car that was above the wheel, just as the car took off.

Beelzebub turned to him, their face the most expressive he'd ever seen it.

They looked ready to say something before they tore off after the car, their short legs a blur as they leaped over other cars and knocked over any pedestrian, animal, or object that stood in their way. Gabriel took to following them from the sidewalk, his body on autopilot as his mind was in shock at this new development.

Damn, they really were _hot_ running through traffic. Gabriel did not have enough energy to smack his head again at _that_ thought, and continued running until he almost slammed into Beelzebub who was standing stock still and not out of breath at all.

Gabriel's form was making an odd wheezing sound, and he found squatting down and placing his hands on his bent knees helped the air flow that he suddenly seemed to need.

"You, threw Geraldine." Beelzebub was suddenly vibrating.

"Where did they go?" Gabriel started to straighten, his attention on more pressing matters than the fly. He thought it had been rather genius of him to throw Geraldine at the car, now they could use the fly to track where the Bentley was going.

He was just taking in the fact that they were on a smaller side road with little shops right before the M25 when he was suddenly slammed into a brick wall of a shop that he had his back too.

Beelzebub was _thrumming_ with anger, their lips pulled back in a snarl as they used all their strength to pin Gabriel to the wall with their forearm to his throat. Beelzebub suddenly looked every bit of a demon, the pus filled sores returning to their face, and the flies buzzing around anxiously and angrily what with the loss of their larger friend.

"**YOU FUCKING THREW GERALDINE INTO THEIR CAR**!"

Their voice boomed, causing the entire block to shake slightly. The wall that was pressed into Gabriel's back shuddered with the most impact from the demon's words.

"Now Beelze-"

"**DO NOT SZZPEAK TO ME LIKE WE ARE FRIENDZZZZZ! YOU JUST TOSSZZZED MY GODDAMN FLY INTO THEIR CAR, WHAT KIND OF IDIOTIC AND SZZZTUPID THING DID YOU JUST DO**!" Beelzebub screeched, pressing their forearm harder against his throat.

"If you..would just..let...me explain." He huffed out. He wasn't in any pain but it was certainly difficult to talk when someone was crushing your windpipe and vocal cords.

Beelzebub regarded him coldly before withdrawing their forearm a bit, allowing him to speak.

He cleared his throat, and hesitantly lifted his arms up to remove their forearm, but they glared harder and he let his hands flop back down to his side.

"Well, your flies, they're a part of you correct? So, all you have to do is sense out that part of you and we'll find them. Geraldine is a tracker." He finished off with a smile he considered most charming.

Beelzebub was back to their impassive face, which he took to be a good sign, and removed their arm fully from his throat, which he regarded as an even better sign, and stepped back.

"I szzzuppose you're right." They muttered, brushing back a bit of their black hair that had fallen into their eye.

Gabriel watched, fully taking in the shorter figure. Who, he was now degradedly admitting, was rather cute. They had horribly shaggy black hair that just reached their shoulders, and a tacky black uniform with a red sash, but they carried their corporeal form with strength, confidence, and an air of indifference that was attracting Gabriel to them. Their brown eyes were quite pretty and round, and their tiny mouth when not frowning, was rather adorable as well. Gabriel had a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Never do that again though. You don't juszzt...never in my life...oh poor Geraldine." The demon sounded actually worried and Gabriel looked at them in slight wonder. He didn't think demons could show any emotions. Besides that Crowley, but he was weird breed who was a 600 level worker. This was Beelzebub, Duke of Hell. Often mistook for Satan himself.

They turned to face him, their expression slipping into slight concern, and now that the sores were gone again, Gabriel could feel himself letting out just a little bit of lo-

No.

Gabriel straightened his suit in and tie, unaware of the parallel that had just happened, and made his face indifferently polite.

He was an archangel, he wasn't that disgusting serpent, or the traitorous Aziraphale. Demons did not feel anything but hate and joy at people's misery. He thought Beelzebub was actually, rather repulsive.

"It worked out fine in the end." He said, acutely aware of how Beelzebub was looking at him confused by his change of mannerisms. "Now," he leaned down so he was faced to face with them, using a bit of his own intimidation, "find us those _traitors_."

"Anathema has to have a spell. She's a bloody witch isn't she?" Crowley hissed, screeching the car to a halt outside the familiar cottage, all too reminiscent of earlier in the week when they had been there for the lunch that had essentially brought them together.

"I'm not sure witches were all versed in spells for angels and demons dear." Aziraphale was much calmer now that the car had been put into park, and rested a reassuring hand on Crowley's thigh.

"And what is that blasted buzzing? I could hear it over the music." Crowley snapped, shutting the car off as the last bars of Beethovens, - now Queens - "_Spread Your Wings_" faded away.

He shoved the car door open, Aziraphale following the same motion but much gentler, as the demon stalked around his car.

There was a very loud buzz coming from the area of the tires and suddenly Crowley's arms were filled with a black mass the size of a Pomeranian.

Aziraphale let out a gasp, as Crowley stared into two large red eyes.

"Is that a fly?" Aziraphale croaked out, stepping forward in fascination and horror.

"Oh yes it is." Crowley said weakly, unable to tear his eyes away from the fuzzy mass that was buzzing happily up at him, obviously pleased to see someone familiar.

"This is Geraldine."

The fly nuzzled closer at the mention of her name and Aziraphale was looking at her now with a fonder look.

"Geraldine" Aziraphale cooed softly, stroking her wings as gently as he could.

Geraldine buzzed louder.

"Why, she's adorable."

Crowley made said something equivalent of someone typing random letters on a keyboard, and stood helplessly as the fly buzzed happily in his arms and let the angel pet her.

"You do realize this is Beelzebub's right? Geraldine is the one who's always atop their head?" He hissed, utterly disgusted but loving how cute his angel was, as said angel continued petting and cooing at the fly.

"We should get her some nectar, or I'm sure Anathema has some lovely fruit for her- sorry what were you saying dear?" Aziraphale turned his face up towards Crowleys.

"I said," Crowley huffed irritated with the angel, "that this fly is Beelzebub's"

"Oh."

"_Oh_." Crowley mocked, glaring behind his sunglasses.

"Well they're not here are they?" Aziraphale asked worriedly, stopping the petting of the fly so he could twist his hands together in a worried fashion that was a normal look for the angel, even after the not-apocalypse.

"No. Otherwise she wouldn't be clinging to me. She recognized an..er...friendly face."

"Well, what do we do with her?" Aziraphale asked, gesturing up towards the cottage. "I don't think Anathema will mind, unless she has a fear of flies. But Geraldine seems well behaved."

Crowley scowled but shifted the fly in his arms so he could open the gate for his angel much like he had done the first time they'd been there. Aziraphale gave him a pleasant smile and the three of them made their way to the front door.


	3. A Change Of Being

Anathema was a witch, and a polite person, so when the angel and demon walked in, the latter carrying a rather large fly, she took it all in stride.

"And who is this?" She cooed, figuring that the approach one would take with a rather cute puppy would work well for the fuzzy, red eyed beast.

Crowley muttered something while Aziraphale hurried to introduce the witch to their newest companion.

"So this little one belongs to the demon from the airbase then?"

"Yup." Crowley said popping the 'p' at the end of the word, and setting the fly down on the kitchen table, which was much cleaner and thankfully rid of all the wedding magazines.

"Her names Geraldine. She's really quite lovely." Aziraphale assured Anathema.

Anathema hesitantly reached out her hand and patted the fly on her head. Geraldine gave a very loud buzz that was equivalent of a purr and Anathema smiled.

"Well, what brings you two to my cottage?" Anathema brought up the subject at hand, still giving the fly some gentle pats.

"Well, we had this idea-"

"_You_ had the idea."

Crowley cut himself off to give the angel a scathing look, and continued.

"_I_ had an idea that you might be able to help us with a bit of a problem we're having."

Anathema frowned in thought. "I'm not sure I have anything that'll do much good for you. You're both non-human so I don't know how the spells will apply to you both. What kind of spells are you looking for?"

"Something like a cloaking spell? Or something that will ward away unwanted pests."

"What sort of pests are we talking about?"

"Oh, just your garden variety archangel and Lord of Hell." Crowley smiled.

Anathema did her best to not looked shocked by this revelation, and instead told them she'd have to look through her books, but they should make themselves at home while they waited. Anathema went to walk away, but Geraldine surprised the room by zooming onto her head.

"She seems to like you." Crowley smirked, aware that Aziraphale was pouting at the fly's sudden attention towards Anathema.

Anathema blushed and left the room.

Geraldine seemed to have wormed her way into everyone's hearts in a matter of minutes, but Crowley was glad he could have some alone time with his angel while the witch went off to look for her book, looking like a rather more feminine and taller Beelzebub.

Crowley slid closer to Aziraphale, pulling the shorter man into a loose embrace from behind, his arms lacing together around the angel's belly.

"Why do you think those two are still after us?" Aziraphale asked, the question hanging in the air. Crowley tightened his hold and rested his pointed chin on Aziraphale's shoulder. The angel let himself sink further into the backwards embrace, the two of them in domestic bliss of a newly engaged couple. Of which they sort of were.

"If I know anything about Gabriel, it's because God hasn't given her approval yet to his idea. Sure, there's been no outright word from her saying we should be punished, especially now that we're in a relationship, but he's very stubborn always liked it when God praised him and his plans."

Crowley placed a gentle kiss under Aziraphale's ear, unaware at the moment that the angel had stiffened in his embrace.

"Also, I'm pretty sure his pissed about the whole breathing fire thing. Nearly singed his suit, it was quite nice too I must admit. It was probably a Brioni, or maybe a Canali-"

"I'm sorry dear but what on Earth are you talking about?"

The angel twisted in the demons arms and Crowley looked down in confusion, peering over the top of his sunglasses.

"What d'you mean?" Crowley was at a loss, running over what he had said in his head to see what he had said wrong.

"Gabriel seeking her approval. He's always doing what he wants, he's basically God up there-oh no I shouldn't have said that. That's blasphemy oh dear." Aziraphale was starting to pull out of the embrace, anxiety twisting his features, but Crowley held him tight.

"He's always seeked her approval, "Crowley didn't flinch when Aziraphale took off his sunglasses, he was used to this turn of events by now, "he may act as he's the top dog but he always does it with the fear and anticipation of Gods approval."

"You're not lying." The angel breathed out, his brows furrowed together as he studied Crowley's eyes.

"Not lying? Of course I'm not lying." Crowley huffed.

"It never occurred to me that he would do everything he does for the sake of her approval. We angels are supposed to serve God of course, and her approval is what we seek. But the way he acts one would think he didn't much care for her approval anymore. And you, you're talking about him as if know him more than the few times you have been in his presence." Aziraphale was looking at him with suspicion and Crowley licked his lips in a nervous tell.

Crowley never talked about his past. There was no reason too. What had been done had been done, and any talk of revenge or forgiveness had flown out the door by the time he'd slithered into Eden.

There was a throat clearing and a familiar buzz, and the two turned to see Anathema in the kitchen doorway with several books in her arms. Geraldine was hovering by her right ear, looking as dejected as a fly could. Crowley could tell the fly was missing her master, and he wondered if this had been the longest the two had ever been parted.

Crowley then surprised them all by jumping about a foot away from Aziraphale, and snatching his glasses back rather rudely and shoving them back onto his face.

"Let's see what books you've brought shall we." He stated and grabbed the top two thickest tomes out of Anathema's arms.

He could feel Aziraphale's gaze on him, he looked up momentarily and then shoved his nose into the index of one of the books, squinting at the small print.

Aziraphale's gaze had been filled with hurt, but also a look that made Crowley know that they would be continuing the earlier conversation.

Oh why did he have to open his big dumb mouth?

After several moments of Anathema and Aziraphale situating themselves around the table to go through the books, there was only silence, broken by pages being turned and Geraldine's buzzing.

They were about two hours into reading - only taking breaks for tea and sweets. Geraldine was given a small dish of apple nectar that Aziraphale had miracled up for her, and was now napping on top of Aziraphale's head. The angel had gone crossed eyed, looking up trying to see the giant fly, which had made Crowley double over in laughter. The angel had scowled at him, but when Crowley had finally stopped laughing, the angel had given a small smile.

The tension between them drained away, but Crowley knew that even with the angels forgiveness, there would still be questions.

A light tapping to his shoulder startled him out of the little reading he'd managed to do - he was a snake, so reading wasn't exactly his forte. His eyes couldn't read very well, and he was starting to get a headache. But he was stubborn and he really wanted to never deal again with trouble from his superior and the archangel, so he kept reading even as his eyes burned and blurred.

Anathema was standing over him with a tentative smile. He scrunched his eyebrows together, wondering when she had moved.

"I remembered our talk, a little before the wedding. I said I might be able to find you some old reading glasses?"

She offered up her hand, where a dark green glasses case rested in it. Crowley took it from her and opened it, taking in the pair of white rimmed glasses that had lenses almost as thick as Anathema's.

"They were my fathers. My mother told me that he had absolutely horrible sight when it came to seeing up close, and that these were one of his first pairs. They were much thicker by the time he died." Anathema smiled sadly, with a little quirk of her lip at an attempt at humor.

Crowley swallowed a lump in his throat and removed his own sunglasses to replace them with the new ones. He then looked down at the pages of the book in front of him. There wasn't much change, he didn't think he'd ever be able to read comfortably because his eyes were just not meant for that, but the pages were indeed a little clearer, and he figured that would help immensely with reading for longer periods of time.

"How are they?" Aziraphale asked softly.

"Good. Very helpful." His throat was constricting weirdly and he didn't feel like himself.

Aziraphale leaned across the table to put a hand on Crowley's forearm, seeming to know exactly how Crowley was feeling. In doing so, Geraldine had been woken up, and she gave a disgruntled buzz.

"Thank you, Anathema." He gritted out the words. He was very grateful, she was one of the few who had ever shown kindness to him, but it still felt hard to be nice or polite to people. To show how deeply affected he was by this small gesture.

He dodged Aziraphale's hand by standing up.

He did an exaggerated stretch, and told them that he needed to go for a little walk. He liked to lounge, but his body wasn't made for sitting straight in a hard wooden chair for two hours straight.

He was vaguely aware that he was mirroring his last visit here, escaping the to the garden when it all got a bit to much.

When he opened the door, Geraldine leaped off of Aziraphale's head, and followed him out.

Gabriel wasn't the type of person to really dwell on life. He was an angel, and like many celestial or occult beings, angels did not have much fear of death. There were very few things that could discorporate an angel, hell fire and special blades were among a short list. There were rumors of a spiral shaped sword in America that slayed angels left and right, and was wielded by a tall man with long hair. But Gabriel didn't find any credit with that story.

Gabriel was rarely on Earth, only stopping in on occasion to check up on Aziraphale and try and make an effort to like the planet God had made. But everytime he came down, the one thing he'd liked from his last visit had been stripped and rebuilt, or simply vanished into nothingness.

One thing he'd never liked over the many years he'd come down to Earth, were the cars. He could never quite put a finger on it, but cars to him were unethical. Humans had feet, angels had wings, why not use what you were given for transportation was his way of thinking.

But right now he had a perfect understanding of why he didn't like cars. They most certainly must be on the list of things that can kill angels, and he wondered how Aziraphale had lasted so long in that black old fashioned car.

Beelzebub was hurtling them down a freeway, their grip tight on the wheel.

The car was old, with faded tan paint and rust spots, but it was moving like it had the engine of a newly made sports car.

They had almost crashed into three pedestrians, ran over multiple sidewalks, and were now zig-zagging through the M25's traffic lanes. Gabriel was clutching the dashboard of the vehicle tightly, denting the plastic into the shape of his finger tips.

Beelzebub was staring intently towards the road, their car seat pushed as far up as it would go. Their flies were droning out the music coming through the stereo, but Gabriel was sure it was new hip hop song, judging by the bass that thrummed along with the hum of the flies.

"How close are we?" Gabriel yelled over the noise, wearily looking out at the sun which was low in the sky.

It had been about three hours since they'd all been in the park, but it had taken a long while for Gabriel and Beelzebub to get the car. Gabriel had wanted to do it the proper way, get it from a dealer as the humans did. The honest way. But Beelzebub kept buzzing at him and pointing out multiple cars that were just free for the taking.

Gabriel had walked into the dealership and immediately turned around. The aura of the place was overwhelming, and he decided that letting Beelzebub steal a car was much safer than going into the Lions den of lying humans.

He was sort of regretting this decision, now that he had his knees pressed uncomfortably close to his chest since the car Beelzebub had chosen to drive wasn't suited for adult humans over the height of 4'3. Even Beelzebub seemed cramped in the car.

"It's diszzorientating. They're szzzomewhere that is very hard to find, it szzeems to be warded. Its like trying to look through those glasszz things humanszz are szzo fond of, a kaleidoszzcope. But we are closzze."

Gabriel nodded, and made an odd wheezing sound when Beelzebub merged in between two large trucks.

He'd be very glad once they had gotten out of his death trap. Very glad indeed.

It was a rather strange feeling to have Geraldine on his head, but it wasn't an unwelcome feeling.

He had went around the front of the house, to the back. His legs swinging out in front of one another in a lazy glide as they unhurriedly brought him to the the gate that enclosed the back of the house.

He pushed through it, the old gate creaking with protest as the ground beneath him changed to old circular stones. The stones split off into two pathways, one leading off to a vegetable patch, the others to a flower patch. Closer to the house there were two iron chair with blue padded cushions, and a rickety looking water fountain that had a toad statute and a bird feeder hanging off of it. The grass was neatly trimmed, and Crowley had a sudden sense of longing as he looked out to see the sky starting to change from a pale blue to cotton candy pink and lush purple.

His attention was caught by familiar blue and orange flowers, growing among the common roses, marigolds, and petunias. He was pleasantly surprised, he didn't think that they would have grown for Anathema, or that the witch would have even planted the one he had given to put in her wedding bouquet.

He took the pathway leading over there, and squatted down. Not caring that he was getting mud on his pointed snake skin shoes.

The flowers all remembered him from the last time he'd been there, and they all trembled. The blue and orange one stood tall among the others, shaking the least, deeming itself the protector of the other flowers. It was the oldest after all.

"I see you lot have been growing." His voice was stern as he inspected each plant. "You are all to keep growing large and beautiful you hear? I don't want you to let down _me,_ or Anathema." He gave them an even sterner look in than his voice, and straightened up.

"Good work though." He said gently.

The flowers now trembled in confusion, and Crowley stuck his hands in his jeans pockets, suddenly aware that he really was getting soft, with the more time he spent with the angel.

There would have been a time where Crowley would have snarled with delight at the terror his plants produced when he walked into the room. His "Grow better!" echoing and seeping into the pores of their leaves. Maybe he was getting old, maybe it was Aziraphale. Maybe it was a mixture of both that made him want to talk more kindly to his plants, that made him think of silly human things like weddings, and maybe moving out here, away from the stuff city and his cold and modern flat.

There was a shift in the air, and a cooling breeze ruffled what hair he had that wasn't covered by Geraldine.

"You miss your master huh?" He asked, and Geraldine seemed to understand he was addressing her.

She buzzed softly, and shifted a little in his hair, nuzzling deeper into his red roots as the breeze picked up.

He wondered how long they had, this little bit of peace, before Beelzebub and Gabriel came and wrecked it all.

He tilted his head up, and looked once more up at the sky. There was now a sorbet orange mingling with the other colors, only little hints of blue peeking through.

He faintly remembered a time where he was much closer to the light of the skies. The air was much cleaner and cooler up there, and you could see everything from above there. There wasn't much to see, just endless desert, and a stone wall being built around a magnificent garden, but the warm colors of the setting sun made everything just a touch more beautiful.

Crowley remembered a time when there were two suns, and the sand had been a nice, dark black, that sparkled in the morning. By the time Aziraphale and the other angels had been created, by the time the garden had been finished and Adam had taken his first steps, the world Crowley had known was gone. God had tweaked everything to be tan sand, and one sun, and Crowley had already fallen.

Aziraphale found him, still looking up at the sky as the sun finally vanished. Leaving the sky a brilliant dark blue.

"I'll tell you what it was like." Crowley whispered, not needing to make himself any clearer to the angel, who understood immediately.

"Come on inside dear, Anathema thinks she's found the right spell." Aziraphale placed a gentle hand around Crowley's waist, and pulled him back towards the cottage.

Crowley took one last look at the sky as they walked inside, and he thought to himself.

_Not yet, but soon angel I'll tell you. I'll let you know who I used to be._

Anathema didn't look up from the plate of food in front of her when her front door was banged open, and a short figure demanded to know "Where are they? I can szzzmell them."

Newt choked on a slice of lamb he'd just cut and looked torn between trying to protect the two of them from the intruders, or trying to get his airway unclogged.

The taller of the figures - wearing an expensive grey suit and had brown hair that framed handsome features - snapped his fingers with a sigh and Newt stopped choking.

"They're not here." Anathema said calmly, take a moment to use her knife to spread some horseradish on her bit of lamb. "They left ages ago."

Beelzebub gave a mighty groan that was amplified by irritate buzzing.

"But I can szztill feel them." Beelzebub argued.

"That's because they left Geraldine behind. They figured you might as well have her back, seeing as she's missed you terribly." Anathema finally looked up from her plate and studied the auras of the beings in front of her.

They were quite similar to Crowley and Aziraphale's auras, but only in the sense that it was painful for Anathema to look at them. Where as Aziraphale's was a bright white and silver aurora, almost as bright as the sun, the taller figures - who Anathema deducted was Gabriel - was a dull purple and blue mixture. The same was for Beelzebub, who had a dark red aura that lacked the shine and brightness that Crowley's gold one had.

Anathema stood with an air of authority. Newt stayed silent, his eyes flicking between his wife and the newcomers. He knew how to pick his battles, and had already come to terms that shoving his way into something he didn't understand would only end up with more trouble. And possible injury on his end.

Anathema came back into the room, cuddling close to her chest a furry mass of buzzing.

Newt jumped in his seat as the furry mass turned large red eyes towards him and then towards the short person in the doorway and began to hum even louder.

It all but leapt out of Anathema's arms in its excitement to reunite with Beelzebub, who eagerly caught the speedy fly in their arms. The smaller flies swarmed closer, greeting their friend with just as much excitement, and dare say, love.

"Szzhe's not hurt?" Beelzebub asked. Anathema assumed they were shocked, but their tone and expression were indifferent.

"Yes..why wouldn't she be?" Anathema asked slowly.

"Becausszze Crowley is a demon and we are chasszzing after him. Why wouldn't he try to harm a part of me? Make me vulnerable?"

"Well, from what I gather, it was you, not them who used Geraldine, you willingly left Geraldine at their mercy."

Beelzebub bristled, for the first time showing a flicker of emotion.

"It waszz not I, it wasszzz him." They snarled, pointing a thin finger at Gabriel.

"It was fast thinking." Gabriel spoke with a deep and sweet voice, like too sweet honey. He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted, seemed to become aware of what he was doing, and uncrossed his arms, letting them hang back at his side. His face became a stone wall, his eyes flicking around the room showing disgust and curiosity.

"Well either way, Crowley and Aziraphale would never hurt Geraldine, or anyone else for that matter."

Anathema returned to her seat, and put the piece of her lamb that she'd spread horseradish sauce onto moments before into her mouth and grimaced at the meat that had lost its warmth.

"They're quite fond of Geraldine, as am I."

Beelzebub squinted at Anathema and then looked down to the fly in their arms.

"Fond?" Beelzebub asked quietly.

They were looking lost, almost like a small child that has just been told that their drawings are actually very lovely, after all other comments they have heard have been their father telling them they can't draw for shit.

Gabriel sensed that the conversation was not going in the direction he wanted and interjected, with a charming smile. "Where did those two men go my good woman?"

His voice seemed less sweet as he talked down to Anathema in a way that reminded her of an old man.

She raised an eyebrow at his sentence, noticing that even Beelzebub was looking weirdly at him as they put Geraldine back on her head.

Gabriel just smiled onwards, waiting for an answer.

Anathema waited him out til the silence became unbearable before answering, "I really couldn't tell you."

Beelzebub cocked their head to the side, and buzzed in confusion. Gabriel stood tall and menacing.

"What?" He snapped.

"I really couldn't tell you. I really couldn't. They cast a spell where you won't be able to find them, not without a counter spell or if they want to be found." Anathema smiled smugly, unaware of the mistake she'd just made.

Beelzebub buzzed in disappointment, but seemed almost glad that they didn't have any means of finding the demon and angel. Beelzebub, had been moved for a second, that Crowley hadn't touched a feeler on Geraldine. It was in that second that everything pivoted for Beelzebub. The world was no longer black and white, demon and angel. They were back in the soft clouded sky, spinning round and round as the sky behind them changed from a brilliant blue to a deep and gorgeous shade of purple, much like Gabriels eyes.

Gabriel on the other hand was going in a different direction. He had become hard after the fall. The angel that would have certainly love humanity, and cherished its little inventions, was now going through a war inside his head. To be this new angel, that seemed to be the leader of all the others and whom all the others looked up to, or the curious little angel that looked up to his older siblings and laughed with delight when he saw a certain black haired angel spinning to music only they could hear.

But because time had passed, _so much time _had gone by, the darker, bitter, and more sad part took over. The side of him that had felt powerful when leading Aziraphale to a hellfired doom coursed through his form. He _was_, the _Archangel "fucking" Gabriel_.

He reached Newt in a short amount of time, his long legs dominating the small kitchen. He raised the boy out of his seat, clenching the collar of his shirt tightly in his fist. He could have grabbed him by the throat, but a small part of Gabriel had stopped him. He held the boy high in air, the boy trembling in his hold, hands scrambling to pull Gabriel's hand off his shirt.

"Now, you said something about a counter spell?"

Gabriel's cruel smile, filled the kitchen, draining it of its warmth and replacing it with a sterile coldness.

And an archangel becomes just a little bit more demon.

Crowley parked the Bentley in front of a worn down looking cottage, about fifty miles east of Tadfield. It was much like Anathema's cottage, though a tad bit smaller and lacking a front gate. The gravel path crunched under snake skin pointed shoes, and leather loafers as they walked up to the cottage.

Crowley miracled the door open and locked it behind them, motioning for Aziraphale to hurry up with the spell.

The angel dropped the objects Anathema had given them onto a sturdy oak kitchen table, causing a swirl of dust to raise up into the air.

Crowley blinked rapidly, trying to keep the dust away from his eyes. His sunglasses were still sitting in his jacket pocket, resting next to his reading glasses.

He helped the angel sort out their items; one white candle, one orange candle, two inches of thin string, a foot of brown rope, an ounce of chopped up cloves, rosemary, and thyme, and a browned parchment that contained the spell.

They looked down at their spread, taking a pause, a breath, as their reality came crashing down on them.

This spell, as Anathema had explained, had been found to have side effects that weren't necessarily good. And this was when it had been applied to humans. No one knew what would happen to a celestial and an occult being, but these were desperate times.

Anathema had gathered everything for them, before copying down some extra notes and translations so there was no possibility of the spell getting messed up. Before they had left the Jasmine Cottage, they managed to set up a little light that would start flickering whenever Beelzebub or Gabriel came within an hour of the cottage. They gave Geraldine another bowl of sweet nectar and petted her goodbye. Then they each were given a very tight hug from Anathema, and a small box tied with twine that Anathema told them to open once they'd finished the spell at the abandoned cottage.

Anathema and Newt had burned the second book of prophecies, but Agnes, being a prophetess, had prepared a third book. This one was much smaller, and much vaguer than the first prophecies, and Anathema knew not to burn this one, for this wasn't just her future anymore. She had made sure to put it in the small box she'd given them as they'd fled the cottage, the light they'd set up flickering madly.

Agnes had told her about a perfect hiding spot, a cottage named Hollythorn, and that was were Crowley and Aziraphale should stay.

Anathema had ended up finding the spell after consulting the new prophecy book, and it was spell that made sure that no one would find those two unless they had the counter spell, or the two wanted to be found. Anathema was of course the holder of the counter spell, and was certain she'd never have to worry about it.

But unbeknownst to them, and even Agnes, Gabriel had been made from two sides of one coin, and he had chosen a pathway that way back then would have threatened him with the fall.

"Here's to coming out on the other side." Aziraphale said grimly, and Crowley felt a shiver run over up his spine. There was an energy in the house, one that didn't seem to be affecting Aziraphale as much as it was affecting Crowley.

Crowley had a terrible feeling, that the only one who be affected by the side effects would be himself.

Aziraphale was mouthing the words of the notes Anathema had wrote, as he started making the spell. Crowley helped as much as he could, a sinking feeling in his stomach the entire time.

Out of the two of them, he'd never been much for spells and charms, so he just grabbed things that Aziraphale needed and let the angel do most of the work.

Aziraphale requested a brown wooden bowl to be filled with sea water, and Crowley miracled it into existence, following the angels instructions to start soaking the herbs in the water. The angel then made a complicated looking knot out of the brown rope - a Lark's head knot.

He then tied the two candles together with the white thread, and with a snap of his fingers they were alight. He soaked the rope in the water with the herbs as Crowley waited on, the only tell of his anxiety a bite of his lip and a worried look in his snake yellow eyes.

Aziraphale pulled the rope out of the bowel and set it down carefully, then moved the two candles to sit in the large holes of the Lark's head knot. He went to grab the old parchment paper with the spell on it, but Crowley blocked his hand.

Crowley was acting quite foolishly he felt, as he pressed himself against Aziraphale, his slender arms wrapping around Aziraphale's properly rounded form. He dipped his head down and kissed the angel with as much force as he could. The kiss bruising yet still very sweet. The desperation showed through him as Crowley wound one hand into the soft white blonde locks of his angel, and the other hand splayed flat against the angel's lower back, pressing in so there was no space between the angel and demon.

Aziraphale made a truly _delectable_ noise and Crowley swallowed it into the kiss, his palms becoming sweaty and clammy as his bodies nerves clashed with arousal and fear.

"What was that for." Aziraphale asked when they pulled away, his eyes dazed and his lips strawberry red from the kissing.

Crowley swallowed the lump in his throat, and pulled even further away, smoothing down Aziraphale's rumpled waistcoat in an attempt to distract the angel.

"Nothing, jus' thought why not kiss you. You look rather _sexy_ in candle light." Crowley used a wink to cover his growing unease.

Aziraphale blushed a bright red and he spent a few moments trying to get his attention back to the spell at hand. Crowley always had a way to make him breathless and unaware after a kiss. Dear lord who knew what would happen to him when they went...further.

Aziraphale began speaking, the english and latin fell from his tongue.

**Protect the protected**

**hide the hidden**

**Qui affecto protego,**

**mixtisque iubas serpentibus et posteris meis stirpiqu**

Crowley looked on, the unease growing. It didn't seem like much was happening, but he felt the hairs on the back of his arms and neck rising. He shuffled back a step from the table, and willed himself to get over the silly notion that the air was becoming heavier, and that the knot on the table seemed to be writhing around like a snake.

Aziraphale was starting to glow a bright silver, the air crackled with electricity and the sweet smell of vanilla and nutmeg. Crowley looked down at his own body and saw it glowing a rich gold, the scent of cinnamon and smoke mixing in with the vanilla and nutmeg.

Aziraphale's eyes were shinning a brilliant ice blue, and a shadow raised up high behind him, showing multiple limbs and wings. The room was trembling with the power in the room, and Crowley knew that if he looked behind him, his own shadow would be mirroring Aziraphale's.

There was a sharp pain in Crowley's side as Aziraphale finished the spell, and the demon collapsed to his knees.

He was faintly aware of the angel looking towards him, waves of worry and love vibrating through the air. Crowley was reminded of the _fall,_ similar in the way he felt like he was burning. But he knew this was something else. It tugged at his heart and his stomach, his body going cold and hot all at once. His vision was doubling as he tried to tear off his clothes in between the flashes of cool; his skin almost boiling.

He could hear Aziraphale calling out to him, but soon his hearing was overtaken by a high pitched whine as he wriggled on the floor.

He was freely sobbing, throwing away his tie and jacket across the room as the heat and the pain flashed through him; his body shivering with a cold that shouldn't be possible.

Crowley let out an almost inhuman howl as his body spasmed.

But suddenly it stopped. The glowing was gone from their bodies, the tension overhanging had fled. Crowley stayed curled up, trying to catch his breath-

Crowley's eyes shot open in panic as he scrambled to get up, nearly knocking his head into Aziraphale's as the angel bent down to help his lover up.

Crowley was shivering, his upper half exposed for he was only now wearing a black tank top, in the early September breeze made its way into the cottage through nooks and crannies. His breathing was unnatural and he felt hollow and heavy.

"Aziraphale." His voice croaked out, he clenched his eyes shut and he fell into the angel, who rushed to keep them both steady.

Even his voice sounded different, it was still the same voice, but it lacked the hissing undertone. Crowley had a terrible feeling he knew what had happened, as he was forced to calm down his breathing and his beating heart.

He had _never needed_ to breathe before.

His fear were confirmed when he opened his eyes and Aziraphale almost dropped him in surprise.

"Cr-Crowley, your eyes." Aziraphale reached up and tenderly cupped his face, and Crowley flinched at the sudden contact of a much to warm hand. Aziraphale had never been too warm for him before.

The angel's brows furrowed in confusion and hurt as the demon - but not demon anymore - flinched in his touch. He started to move his hand away, but Crowley was stubborn and covered Aziraphale's pudgy pale hand with his own thin shaky and weak hand, keeping it there. He didn't care if his flesh melted off his face, he wanted to reassure his angel that he was ok with the touch, what was a little pain between lover anyways?

Aziraphale's blue eyes were filled with emotions that Crowley could no longer feel and could only see.

Blue eyes, that once were overjoyed at seeing the neon and electric golden yellow eyes, with their vertical slits and impossibly long red lashes, were now staring into normal brown eyes with flecks of gold in them.

The angel and the demon, stood embraced, taking each other in now that everything was _very different._

For the second time in his entire life, as the reality set in that _Crowley_ was now _human_, Aziraphale swore.

"Oh fuck."


End file.
